The Fuckpen

Walter called in the fuckpen. Out here in the middle of nowhere, Sam and Alisa and Walter and Mira all shared their mobile home out in the desert. Alisa had borne two children -- one of Walter's, a Eurasian girl by the name of Kannika, and a Blasian boy named after Sam. The four of them co-parented the children, so when it came down to get down and dirty, they went to a small shed on the other side of the property so aptly named by Walter.

It had two mattresses on the floor. The windows were blocked out with plywood. The air smelled of ass and pussy and cock in here. And in the Arizona heat, the temperatures were stifling. It was like fucking in a sauna when the body heat got high, Mira thought.

She was on all fours in the fuckpen, Sam in front of her, Walter behind her. Sam's large, thick Black cock pushed between her lips, down her throat, the casual assertiveness of a longtime lover. Behind her, old man Walt pounded away at her relentlessly, his wiry frame deceptively strong as he gripped her golden hips, his cockhead pressing against her prostate.

"Fuck," Mira whined. "Fucking cocks ..."

Sam came first, a thick torrent of seed down her throat, filling her belly and making her choke. Walter worked her ass, his balls pounding her smaller ones, grinding on her prostrate until her large, limp tool shot out thin, watery ropes of cum.

"Goddddd," Mira whined.

"That's my bitch," Walter said, all arrogance and confidence. He came in her ass, the three of them caked in sweat as he emptied his seed inside one of his bitches.